El Cuarteto de Nos

It turns out that grabbed and I decided to kill myself
because there was nothing where grab.
Not that I am a bajoneado type,
but I would not save Superman drugged.

One thing was well clarita:
the sky was not going to go even if I give twine.
EL hell for me was wonderful,
or reincarnate in Cordon Blue or Sanchez Padilla.

So yes, if you would ask
that the sky did not intend to go,
and to see who had to go talk
I had wedge in Uruguay,
so no, no, please
no heaven.

To heaven I always had imagined
as when a cartoon he died,
like some horrible picture of Michelangelo,
or as the paradise that had Dante.

But who convinced me that the sky was a mess,
although I already had some hatred,
were the words of my grandmother Popa
appeared when I was playing the cup.

And saying "look my love
here in heaven everything is terror,
because there is no betting or peanuts
nor any bar where you can anise "
so no, no, please
no heaven.

Bounce I learned that eternity
last long, and sometimes more
and I can not stand all continue
sitting on a cloud like a bladder.

Playing the harp and tune bad
surrounded by angels always pissing,
removing cobwebs from my genitals
because there are all virgins Eastern.

Preferred and hell be
but had to endure
Oribe and Rivera to Garzon
and the fans of Peñarol
so no, no, please
no heaven.